


Metamorphosed

by octocelot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But eventually requited, M/M, Self-Denial, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octocelot/pseuds/octocelot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Albus is head over heels and is ashamed and afraid, but Scorpius knows and isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphosed

Scorpius is poison.

Like his namesake, the more Albus takes in of him, the more Albus feels himself weakening. Scorpius is something destructive running through Albus's veins, and Albus feels the rivers inside of him turn red like the Nile did once.

Just as well, he thinks. He's paying for his sins, anyway.

Scorpius is sin.

Albus feels dirty when he's near him, his legs threatening to twitch, his arms ticklish, his eyelids never daring to blink lest he miss a moment of time with his _friend_.

He feels filthy when he comes away from that high, that pressure that builds behind his jaw when Scorpius smiles. That smile is devilish without trying to be. Albus is tempted, so easily tempted.

Scorpius is fire that's blue, looking cool to the touch, harmless, but burning hotter than red.

Albus doesn't struggle against the bonds he has tied around himself when he sees the flames come closer, licking first his toes and then making their way up his shins and thighs, and-

Scorpius is a constellation.

Albus plays connect-the-dots with the freckles on his back when Scorpius and he are in the changing room before and after Quidditch practice. He stargazes.

He feels his fingers move. They want to touch the stars, but Albus slowly pulls them back. It'd be silly to try to reach the sky when he's stuck on earth. Scorpius is forbidden.

And Albus is chained.

* * *

Albus is a willow, rooted near water, bending towards the pond.

He can't move away from his lifeline, but he can't fully join it either. He weeps, but Scorpius knows.

Albus is a current.

He is lightning near the earth, searching for the highest point on the ground, anything to run through, to mingle with. He's needy. He's quieter than his aftermath, and he makes himself visible for only a moment, but everyone knows he's present when he is. Scorpius knows this.

Albus is poetry.

His thoughts stop and start. His words are few. They're simple, but obscure, something to decipher. But Scorpius has the key.

Scorpius knows what Albus thinks of him. He knows in the way Albus responds to his touches, how he isn't exactly friendly. He knows in the way Albus glances away, apologetic and ashamed.

Scorpius doesn't like that.

When he leans forward, moving his face towards Albus's tentative one, he feels like a liberator for not only himself. When Albus smiles against his lips, Scorpius knows they've metamorphosed.


End file.
